


Finally Free

by azuresky18



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gallavich, Gap Filler, Gay Sex, M/M, Season/Series 10, Shameless Season 10, gallavich proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22224889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azuresky18/pseuds/azuresky18
Summary: Mickey didn’t think love and “happily ever afters” were for Milkoviches. Thankfully, that fateful night at the Imperial Mammoth concert convinced him once and for all that he was wrong.A S10E10 gapfiller with associated spoilers.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 233





	Finally Free

**Author's Note:**

> I was so displeased with how the proposal was handled (not the proposal itself, the terrible editing choices) that I stayed up until the wee hours of the night working on this. It has not been betaed, so I therefore apologize in advance for any errors.
> 
> Content warning: Since this fic is from Mickey’s POV, it uses some canon-typical slurs the character would use.

_ Why the fuck did I let myself be dragged to this stupid fucking thing, and why is Ian with a dude who is so much of a fairy that he probably shits glitter? Am I supposed to be jealous? Dude even smells like a chick, wearing some nasty-ass perfume that smells like flowers somebody ate and then puked up. It makes me want to gag._

Mickey chugged his beer in silence, glaring at the people around him and thinking about how different this was from the Alibi. _ This was all Byron’s fault. _ He didn’t know why he agreed to go to this fucking concert in the first place, and it was worse to see Ian with this little fruity twink who looked like a feather could knock him on his ass. Mickey could tell Ian hadn’t fucked him yet, because he looked like he’d end up in the hospital getting stitches where nobody would ever want them if he so much as tried to take what Ian was packing.

The brunet huffed impatiently. It began as an annoyance, but now Mickey was so far out of his depth that it was almost comical. He didn’t want to be surrounded by hipsters and their pretentious bullshit, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to have to put up with Byron for another night for so many reasons - not the least of which were that he was mediocre (at best) at sucking dick, and he fucking whined constantly. It didn’t help that Mickey felt like he would rather put his fist through barbed wire than go another day without a dick in him, but he sure as hell didn’t want Byron’s. He wanted one that he’d actually be able to feel.

Thankfully, they at least had some cheap beer at the bar and he wasn’t stuck nursing one of those faggy-ass chick drinks the dude Ian had brought with him tonight liked. It pained Mickey to call him a dude, because he sure as fuck didn’t look, walk or act like one. He was seriously considering fucking off and calling his stuff he’d left at Byron’s a loss, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a bar fight: a body falling to the floor, punches being thrown.

“Well, this is more my language, ain’t it?” Mickey smirked as he turned around. His eyebrows flew into his hairline. What he didn’t expect to see was Ian fucking Gallagher beating the shit out of Barry...err, Byron. He didn’t know what had happened, but Ian was as pissed as Mickey had ever seen him, green eyes wild with anger. He was practically growling like an animal as he pounded Byron into submission.

Some of Byron’s friends stepped in to pull Ian off of him, but the redhead was not having it. It took several to restrain him, and Mickey could tell that the patrons around them had in all likelihood never seen a bar fight before. They looked like they were about to shit themselves in fear. It would have been very funny if Ian’s display wasn’t impressing him and turning him on at the same time.

As much as Mickey still wanted to be pissed at Ian for refusing to sign that goddamn piece of paper after everything he did for Gallagher’s ass, for his pathetic display of self-pity outside of Byron’s apartment, and doubting Mickey’s love for him - as if multiple times of risking his life for the fucker wasn’t enough - he couldn’t stay mad. Without having seen what happened, it sure as hell looked like Ian was taking suppressed rage over Mickey out onto Byron.

_ This is the Ian Gallagher I fell in love with all of those years ago, before I even wanted to call it that or, hell, even admitted to myself that I wanted more than a hell of a good lay from him. I bet Byron talked shit about me and he’s getting his ass handed to him, because that’s the only thing that has ever gotten Ian this way. Nothing else puts that fire into his eyes but what we have together. I know now that it isn’t about not loving me at all. I just need to let him know that he’s good enough._

“Look at my man. He don’t take no shit.”

Mickey scowled at the nerve of Ian’s pet twink. _ His _ man? He knew damn well that Ian took no shit - it was one of the things he loved the most about him. _ He fought for everything he’s had in his life, against all of the odds. and now he’s fighting for me. He still wants me. Your man? He’s MY man. I’m getting his dick, and you’re getting your teeth knocked down your throat. Say one more word, you little bitch. I dare you. Just say it._

“Calm down,” Mickey said, hoping he’d have the sense to shut his face. Nothing doing.

“I’m gonna do gymnastics on that dick tonight. I’m gonna Simone Biles that dick, you know what I’m saying?”

At the mention of Ian’s dick in anyone else’s ass but his own, Mickey barely noticed when he cold-cocked the annoying twink with the delusion of getting near Gallagher’s cock. He didn’t hit him that hard; it was a lot like swatting an annoying fly for all of the effort it took to drop him.

After shaking his head at the body on the floor, Mickey turned to where Ian had finished beating the shit out of Byron and was now proceeding to give one of his friends similar treatment. He needed to intervene before this got out of hand and Gallagher got himself thrown back in the joint for assault and battery. One of these rich fucks was going to call the pigs for sure if he didn’t cool it.

“Hey,” Mickey barked, making his way through the gawking concertgoers to the center of the mayhem. The center-of-mayhem in question stopped what he was doing and stared up at Mickey, an expression of pure love in his eyes.

Ian looked years younger, like that skinny 15-year-old kid he had fallen for so many years ago, who took hold of his heart, as much as Mickey fucked up and pushed him away, and never let go. _ Goddamn it. _He didn’t stand a chance at all.

“I love you, Mickey Milkovich. More than anything. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life-”

That was all Mickey needed to hear. _ Goddamn this fucking ginger asshole for making me look like a sap in front of these pricks. This is all I’ve ever fucking wanted. _

“Jesus Christ, save the fuckin’ speech, you pussy. I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll fuckin’ marry you,” Mickey said. He embraced Ian and drew him into a long, passionate kiss.

He didn’t hear what the people around him were saying. Hell, he didn’t know if they were going to call the police, or if anyone had recorded the brawl on their phones. It was true: nothing else ever mattered. It was always just them, and it was never just going to be a piece of paper. Almost nine years, unspeakable heartbreak on both of their parts, all of the times that Mickey put himself out there for this stupid ginger asshole and got stabbed in the heart in return. He really was love’s bitch, as much as he’d never admit it.

None of this seemed real. No Milkovich from the South Side got a happy ending. As he had once doodled on a piece of paper that still hung on the wall of his childhood bedroom, “fuck love.” Love was for kids who didn’t have Terry Milkovich as a father. It wasn't for kids who started a life of crime before they hit puberty, who were in and out of juvie since early in high school. Mickey was supposed to be in jail for life, or dead before he lived to see his 25th birthday. But now, he was 25 and his life was just beginning.

Mickey and Ian broke apart to see that the band had put away their instruments, and somehow the police hadn’t shown up yet. Another one of Byron’s friends was helping both of the men Ian had pummeled off the floor, and Ian’s twink was stirring from where Mickey had decked him. The brunet paid him no mind, but now they had to figure out how they were going to get out of here. Their dates had had the wheels.

“I’ll call an Uber for us,” Ian decided before Mickey had a chance to say much else. Thankfully, it looked as though the majority of the patrons were simply giving them a wide berth and hoping no further violence would break out before they fucked off for the night. 

Mickey headed outside with Ian on his heels, not caring how he would get back any of his stuff he’d left at Byron’s place. He never wanted to see the inside of that little pussy’s apartment ever again. He could get more clothes from Goodwill to replace the ones he’d left there, and he’d been using Byron’s soap and towels while he was staying there, anyway.

As they waited for their ride, Ian fidgeted nervously, shifted his weight on his crutches. Mickey turned to him. “I know there’s more going on in that copper noggin, so you can spit it out now.” He reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled.

Ian sighed. “It’s just that...I know there’s a lot more we have to say before all is said and done, but I hope you know it was never about you at all. I was such a fucking idiot to think I could ever forget about you, that I could move on. No one else can even come close. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t visit you in prison, and I’m so sorry I left you at the border. We didn’t talk about this enough when we were locked up in Beckman, probably because I just wanted to start over and forget about it. But we can’t.”

“Hey. That shit don’t matter anymore,” Mickey said. “Well, I take that back. It matters cuz you’re a goddamn idiot with all of your ‘how do you know you love me’ and ‘I want to know how you feel’ horseshit. Fuck that, and fuck you for saying that. I know I’m not too good with words and all, but I don’t gotta say too much for it to be real fuckin’ obvious how I feel.”

“Mickey…” Ian began.

“Don’t ‘Mickey’ me. Yeah, I wanna marry your ass, but that don’t make this other shit go away. You hurt me real bad with what you did, but I forgive you because I fuckin’ love you. Do I trust you still? Yeah, I do, because I’m a fuckin’ jackass who likes punishment for some reason I haven’t figured out. But I can’t get rid of your ginger ass that easily.”

They both snorted in response. “Yeah, I guess we both are jackasses who like punishment to a certain extent,” Ian said. “I can’t believe I’m actually repeating anything Frank said, but Debbie told me about something he said when we were on the road to Mexico. He said, ‘Love is not supposed to be cute. Love is supposed to be raw and destructive.’ Guess even a broken clock is right twice a day, you know?”

“Yeah. But that’s where it ends, because you ain’t Monica and I sure as hell ain’t Frank. That’s the last I wanna hear of this shit about your parents, cuz we’re us,” Mickey added.

Their Uber pulled up, and Mickey discarded his cigarette butt before they got in. As they drove off, Mickey could see a battered but no longer bleeding Byron getting on his Vespa, with the bleach-blond guy Ian had brought with him getting on the back. _ Better him than me, _Mickey thought. _ Guess Ian went easy on him, since he wasn’t leaving in an ambulance. _

After the car dropped them off at Ian’s blue house, they walked inside to see all of the Gallagher clan gathered in the living room for a family meeting. Frowning, Ian and Mickey piled in as Lip dropped the bombshell that he was moving to Wisconsin with his baby mama and son. _ At least he isn’t going to jail, _ Mickey thought.

Once the meeting broke up, Mickey turned to Ian to see a thousand-mile stare, one he wasn’t surprised to see after the news. Ian was always close to Lip, and even Mickey had warmed up to him in the time they’d been living at the Gallagher house since getting out of prison. Ian told him on the ride home that his older brother had been supportive of Ian getting Mickey back and marrying him, which didn’t hurt.

“You okay?” Mickey asked him.

“Yeah, but let’s get upstairs. I don’t want to think about Lip right now. I want to think about you and me. Together. Actually engaged.”

The older man looked around the room and noticed that the Gallaghers had already dispersed. No one seemed surprised to see Mickey back in the house, like he was just as much of a regular fixture as anyone else who lived there, or the trusty baseball bat hanging on the wall over the staircase, or the ratty map shower curtain in the bathroom. He supposed it was comforting and, since was privy to the Gallagher meeting, he had to get used to officially being one of them. They accepted him more than most of his own family did. 

“Do we wanna tell them now?” Mickey whispered, even though no one would have been in earshot anyway.

“Later. We will,” Ian replied. “But let’s get upstairs since we’ve got unfinished business.”

Mickey smirked at Ian as he followed him up the stairs to Lip’s old bedroom, where they’d been sleeping before the brunet unceremoniously decided to move in with Byron after the mess at the courthouse. Ian flopped down on the bed and pressed his back against the wall so Mickey had room to get in next to him. He cuddled up to him so that they were spooning.

“I meant what I said, Mickey. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said. “I don’t know why I ever doubted that, but now I’ve never been more sure of a decision in my life.”

“Such a sap, Gallagher,” Mickey teased, leaning into Ian’s neck to peck a kiss on it. “You owe me one for puttin’ up with you for all of these years. But I wanna let you know I’m sorry, too, for hitting you and causing you to break your leg. I should have been past that shit. But I swear to all that’s fuckin’ holy: you break my heart again, I’ll break somethin’ else on you.”

“Yeah,” Ian said. “I deserved that. But I mean it this time. I’m all in, but I can’t promise I won’t be doubting myself again. I don’t know who I’ll be from one day to the next, and I don’t know how you’ll be able to put up with it. I can’t promise that I won’t feel like a burden to you, and that I won’t have my good and bad days.”

“Ian,” Mickey interjected, sitting up straight to fix blue eyes on him. “You think I don’t wanna deal with your bipolar ass? In case you don’t remember: I was there when you got diagnosed. I was there when you were stealing suitcases, when you cheated on me, when you made a porno and when you fucked off with Yevgeny. I know what I have to deal with, and I can’t make you take your meds. But I know you know what’s at stake if you choose not to do it.”

“I do know. I can’t bear the thought of hurting you again, and I’m so sorry again for doing it as much as I have,” Ian continued. “I am going to stay on my meds. I landed myself in jail the last time I stopped taking them. All I do is hurt other people and myself when I‘m off them.”

“Jesus, Gallagher.” Mickey shook his head. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me, because I think there’s something you’ve got for me that I haven’t had in way too fuckin’ long.”

“Oh?” Ian raised a red eyebrow. “And what might that be? Do tell me.”

“This.” Mickey reached down to squeeze Ian’s cock, which was semi-hard but rapidly turning into a full-on tent, through his pants. “I haven’t had dick in weeks, and I don’t want anybody’s but yours. You know that shit I said about being vers? It was just that: bullshit.”

“No!” Ian’s features twisted into an expression of mock surprise. “And here I thought you just decided to take me back so you could fuck me in the ass for the first time.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I will. Actually, I think that’s my job, since you’re my fiancé now.”

_ Fiancé_. _ The word is real fucking weird, _ Mickey decided. _ But I don’t have to get used to it. Pretty soon, Ian Gallagher won’t be my fiancé anymore. He’ll be my husband. And I’ll be his._

The thought of this being their first time having sex as an engaged couple made Mickey even more turned on. He shifted his body on the bed so he was facing Ian, and slotted his mouth against that of the younger man. They began to passionately make out, the brunet sliding his tongue into Ian’s mouth as they moaned. Mickey’s fingers wound themselves in strands of red hair, and by the time they broke apart, they were both gasping.

“I need you,” Ian panted. “Go get the lube and then get back over here.”

Wordlessly, Mickey got up and grabbed the tube out of the dresser drawer, placing it on the bed next to them. He sidled up to Ian so that they were facing each other. He unbuttoned Ian’s pants and zipper, and pulled them down enough to cup his own hand around Ian’s fully hard, thick cock. Ian moaned as his fiancé’s fingers reached into his boxers and encircled his erection.

“Fuck, Mickey…” Ian moaned. “Missed this so much. Missed feeling you jerk me off.”

“Yeah? That all you missed me doin’?” Mickey said teasingly. The brunet increased his movements on Ian’s dick as the redhead’s fingers found their way to Mickey’s zipper and pushed down his pants and boxers.

From there, both men sat up and hastily took off the rest of their clothing until they were both naked. Mickey flopped back down onto the bed on his back, and Ian got on top of him, working around the clunkiness of the cast on his leg by positioning himself with his arms in a way that took weight off of it. If it bothered or hurt Ian, Mickey couldn’t tell. He enjoyed feeling the warmth of Ian’s larger body on top of his own, something he had sorely missed when he was shacking up with Byron in that cheap parody of a relationship. He was just too damn tiny for Mickey’s liking.

Ian leaned down into Mickey’s neck and began sucking lightly at it until the older man began tugging at his hair to get him to move his head further up. Their lips met again, and as Mickey deepened the kiss, he decided enough was enough. They had all the time in the world to go slowly, and Mickey wanted Ian’s cock now. His own was throbbing and dripping pre-cum onto his belly like a faucet.

”Your leg okay with this?” Mickey asked, concerned.

”It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all. Don’t care.”

“I want you in me. Want to feel you so fuckin’ bad right now.” Mickey reached over on the bed for the lube and tossed it to his fiancé, wordlessly telling him he wanted Ian to begin prepping him. Ian moved onto his side next to Mickey and popped the cap open, spreading the viscous substance onto two of his fingers. He slid his hand back down, ghosting them over Mickey’s aching cock until they settled at his opening.

“Don’t go slow. Get me ready so you can start fuckin’ me. You ain’t gonna hurt me.”

Apparently, Ian didn’t need to be told twice, since he slid first one, then two digits into Mickey’s hole. The brunet moaned, the sound needy and strained, at the feeling of Ian’s thick fingers inside of him again. It had felt like an eternity and, as good as this already felt, it was nothing compared to what was going to be coming next.

“You’re so tight and warm, Mickey,” Ian purred into his ear. “Haven’t had anything inside you for too long...I can tell. Gotta loosen you up a little bit more before I put my dick inside.”

“Mmm,” Mickey said, his low hum turning into a sharp gasp as Ian curled his fingers to firmly press against his sweet spot. He keened loudly as Ian continued to massage his prostate, squirming on the bed and feeling his cock throb again and leak fluid copiously.

Ian removed his fingers and reapplied enough lube to be able to replace them with a third finger added. Mickey enjoyed feeling Ian do this, knowing his fiancé was so familiar with his body and everything he liked, but he knew they were both hungry for the main course. It was like part of him was missing: he ached with unfulfilled sexual tension when he was away from Ian. This was like coming home again.

The redhead shifted on the bed so he could begin to slick his hard cock with lube. As he finished, he asked, “How do you want it? Kind of want to spoon. I always love feeling your body pressed against mine like that.”

“I don’t give a shit how we do it, I just want your fuckin’ cock in my fuckin’ ass already,” Mickey said as he turned around so that he was in the requested position, his back against Ian’s chest and stomach.

“Bitchy much? You really _ haven’t _ had something up your ass in a while,” Ian chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up and...ohhhhh.” Mickey’s words trailed off, replaced by a drawn-out moan as he felt Ian’s dick slide inside him. He ground his ass into Ian as the redhead wrapped his arm around Mickey’s waist and rocked in and out, slowly at first before his thrusts became deeper and more insistent as Mickey loosened up.

“You feel so good,” Ian panted into Mickey’s ear before leaning into Mickey’s neck and kissing it. Mickey knew he wanted to leave a mark there, wanted to create a visual reminder of his claim to his body and the fact that they were going to be husbands, promised to each other through thick and thin, sickness and health, and all that shit.

The thought alone made Mickey want to switch positions so he could see Ian’s face - every single fevered gasp and moan out of his mouth, and every time his eyes rolled back into his head. Mickey always felt such satisfaction in knowing that he was doing that - giving Ian that kind of exquisite pleasure.

“Want you on top of me,” Mickey said as Ian pulled his mouth off his neck. “Want to see your face as you come inside me.”

From the sound he let out, Mickey knew Ian didn’t need to be told twice. The redhead pulled out and they repositioned their bodies, being mindful of Ian’s leg. As Ian hovered over him, Mickey could see his eyes, filled with passion and love, pupils dilated so there was only a thin ring of green around them. They closed shut tightly as Ian pushed back into his future husband, and Mickey felt his hole stretch around Ian’s cock once again. He sighed with satisfaction.

“I love you,” Ian whispered into his ear as he began to thrust into him. Mickey enjoyed this but was never one for sex being overly gentle, so he began to dig his fingernails into Ian’s back. The redhead knew Mickey’s body and reactions well enough to know that was his cue to start pounding him harder.

Their grunts and soft moans increased in volume along with the sounds of Mickey’s fleshy ass cheeks slapping against Ian as he fucked him. By now, the mattress was squeaking in protest, too, and the house was full of Gallaghers, but Mickey was far beyond caring. With the way Ian’s cock was rubbing firmly against his sensitive prostate and his cock about to burst, he knew it wouldn’t take much more for him to come.

“Touch yourself,” Ian encouraged. “Want to see you come as I finish in you.”

Mickey reached between their bodies to wrap his right hand around his weeping cock, feeling his slick foreskin gliding easily across the head with the amount of pre-cum he was producing. His breath hitched and he knew Ian could feel his body tensing up as he was about to orgasm. He looked into his eyes again and said, “I love you, Ian. So fuckin’ close. Gonna…”

His sentence ended in a harsh groan as Mickey tipped over the edge, his balls contracting as several ropes of his cum painted his hand and stomach. Ian’s thrusts became more unsteady, and Mickey could tell his fiancé was close to his climax. A second later, his hips stilled, he moaned out that he was coming and filled Mickey with his release.

Both men lay still as they came down from their orgasms, their bodies heaving as one mass as their hearts beat together. It was a fitting way to end the night, since they were about to be joined together in every way possible, their nearly decade-long relationship culminating in public declaration of their love for each other. He was a far cry from the scared boy Mickey cringed to think of from years ago, who wouldn’t even admit to himself that he was gay. Even now, this felt like more than he deserved. Mickey Milkovich was finally happy, and finally free.

_ What you and I have makes me free, not what these assholes know._

That was no longer true - now it _did_ matter who knew. Being free was about being proud of who he was and what everybody now knew. He wasn’t afraid to say that out loud, either.

_ I’m gay, and I love Ian Gallagher. _


End file.
